At Night
by Lone.L
Summary: Oneshot, revised. She can see into his very soul, peer into his heart. She sneaks in at night to watch him and his dreams, but his dreams' contents are, and always will be, unpredictable.


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**At Night**

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**_"She'll find out all those little secrets you don't want anyone else to know."_  
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Gypsy. Outcast. Roma.

Human.

For all of their names, they are still people. They still smile and hope, cry and grieve, give and sacrifice.

They still love.

She is special, so special beyond comprehension. She alone can gaze into others' hearts, leaving no corner untouched and no secret uncovered, identifying each and every thought with ease.

What will she find in his?

In between some quiet nights, she sneaks into his room to sit beside him on his bed. It is during these times that she touches him gently, allowing her to see directly into him, and his thoughts. Her mind is filled with the deepest workings of his soul, the contents of his heart, and the essence of his dreams.

Those workings, that essence...their contents are unpredictable.

It is midnight in the Saar territory, a state in the southwest of Germany under French administration, in a city called Saarbrücken. The full moon hangs overhead on invisible strings, far above the earth below. The captivating light it gives off finds its way back down, suffusing the land with white illumination. Stars glitter nearby, covering the night sky, as if they are the moon's children--smaller, but much larger in number and no less important. In the city, although it is quiet, lights hang outside of every building and over the street on posts every few feet, all turned on. The town seems to be alive, but its inhabitants are nowhere to be found; they are sleeping peacefully.

Nearby, a small pond quietly rests. Fireflies dance across its surface, trying to keep pace with their distorted and green-tinted reflections. Short reeds lay across the bank, swaying deftly with each breeze. Grass rustles in the wind, playfully knocked about by mild gusts. Occasional, paltry ripples signal the presence of tiny fish under the dark water's surface. Behind it, flanked on either side by large trees, a two-story building resides. Its solid limestone walls are blank white, yet scratched and slightly worn down, which causes distorting shadows to be cast across them. An unimposing door is at the front, made of plain wood, light brown, with an iron handle.

The search for the uranium bomb brought into this world has yielded nothing—not even the smallest trace. Unflinching, he continues to search for it, along with his dear brother and the beautiful Roma woman who travels with them.

They are staying the night at this humble lodge.

On the second floor, made of hardwood that has the appearance of remaining unpolished for quite some time, another door leads into a two-room area. The walls open on either side, leading to a space with two beds on the left and a larger, single one on the right. Directly ahead stands a small area with a tile floor that serves as the kitchen. Because they have only been here for one night, it remains relatively clean. Uncluttered white countertops house a petite sink.

The beds are in keeping with the simple theme, harnessing bland white sheets and pillows.

The one abnormality are the ones that lay in them.

She awakes, not with a start, but with several slow blinks and a gradual awareness that fills in her surroundings. The clock at her bedside informs her that the time has just slid past 12:00 a.m. A soft smile spreads across her lips, and she draws the blankets back. A flowing white nightgown rustles as she stands and, without hesitation, leaves the room.

The door opens silently, allowing a shadow to slink quietly into the area. The temporary flow of light is shut off as it closes, once again without a sound.

She looks at his sleeping form, and a blush spreads to match her smile. It has been five months since she met him; every day he lets her in on a little bit more of their lives—more precisely, she lets herself in. Every day they grow closer, and it is not due only to her intrusion. Her bare feet tap the floor inaudibly as she crosses the room in a graceful, sweeping motion. She leans over him for a moment, and observes his limp body and peaceful expression. Her soft smile widens, and with much caution, she sits beside him on the bed.

Russet hair mingles with golden strands as she hovers over him. His eyes are closed, but their presence is still felt. He is still clothed in the white shirt he wears under his vest, as it appears that he does not often use the blankets. The clothes he wears are wrinkled. His newly crafted automail arm lies under his body, his human one atop it as he sleeps on his side. Golden hair is splayed out across the dented pillow, unrestrained by the ponytail he employs to hold it up.

He is smiling.

She beams as if she can not help it, and her ethereal mahogany eyes light up. Her tan skin and dark eyes are in a stark contrast to his own, but their smiles appear to be united as one.

Before she can help herself, she bends down, leaning forward bit by bit, until she finds herself less than an inch from his face. After a silent moment of contemplation, she touches her forhead to his and closes her eyes.

_Long, grassy knolls are spread out for acres, as far as the eye can see, and zephyrs skim constantly through the air. A small dirt path leads into the distance, towards a house that stands out against the sky. Peace abounds. Jovial tunes, the sound of happy children playing, waft through the atmosphere. A feeling of enlightened enjoyment seems to have settled in the place. Suddenly, it is all gone, and in its place is the old apartment in Munich. Small visions flash, of the events surrounding the Thules and the Beer Hall Putsch, one by one, until the kaleidoscope of dreams rests on one small image: her. She reaches her hand out to him while they stand under a clear sky, and he takes it with a wink and a grin._

She pulls up momentarily, and has to remind herself that this is his dream; nothing more. When she is calmed, she delves in once more. When the reel of images is finished, she goes deeper still, deeper than she usually does, searching. Then she finds it.

Emotions.

A wave washes over, drenching her in every feeling he has ever experienced. She sorts through them all, one by one, until the one that is most important jumps out at her. This time, she opens her eyes to stop, but does not pull back.

It is love.

He is so strong, so determined, that it is easy to forget that he is a person just like everyone else. It is easy to forget that he loves too. That he needs to be loved.

The blush appears once again; her radiant lips curve once more in a tiny smile. The ambrosial fragrance that she is wearing permeates the room, drifting over him. She is having trouble determining if she should get up and leave, and save it for another day, or remain and take her chances.

It does not matter.

He rotates his body until he is laying on his back, and his eyes squeeze for a moment, as if he is trying to recall something. His mouth creases, and then opens.

His peaceful expression returns, and then he quietly mutters her name. She realizes that he is still dreaming, but that, too, does not matter.

She lays down this time, instead of leaning, and leans her head against his, touching them together as she always does. As she does so, there is a hushed smack.

This time, their lips touch seamlessly as well.

Outside, hundreds of tiny lights flicker in unison.

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_"Even when our eyes are closed, there's a whole world that exists outside of us, and our dreams."_  
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_Fin_

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****A/N: **Well...there was no inspiration for this, other than that Noah is a very, very beautiful woman and Ed is now stuck in our world, away from Winry, Rose, and all other would-be romanticizers. I just wanted to write something to ease the pain of FMA being done for good. I don't think it's the best I could have done, but it did turn out to be something that I liked a lot, and I hope you all do too. I'll be making a much improved, longer one when my general sense of creativity returns to me.

As a side note, when people open their mouths or kiss, there is a small "smack" sound. I couldn't find anything better to describe that, so that's the word I had to use. I hope nobody was confused by the third to last line, which included that. I'm considering making a few minor edits in a while, but I'll have to see.

**EDIT: **Well, apologies, but those minor edits have finally come. I decided that it looked better overall without the ----'s, so I removed those. I hope no one liked it too much the previous way. I also reworded a few sentences and touched it up, because this is one of my favorite stories.

**LL**


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